


Everything Makes Sense

by daytripper14



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 06:12:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3885397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daytripper14/pseuds/daytripper14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Directly after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry is left to pick up the pieces of himself and finds comfort in a surprising person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything Makes Sense

As soon as he could, Harry got away from the hubbub. It was surprisingly easy to slip anonymously through the crowd while everyone was busy gathering their loved ones and praising life and luck, or cursing death. He made a point not to notice any faces, dead or alive. So much had been won and lost in the past twenty-four hours, and Harry knew that it was only a matter of minutes before his calm façade shattered around him.

He walked blindly, without any clear direction or thought besides “away.” He didn’t know where he was, didn’t want to know where he was. For now, he was fighting to prolong the numbness.

Ron and Hermione had been so relieved, and so so sad. Ron had gained one brother, but lost another, and Hermione had barely known how to even start grieving for the masses of people they had all loved and lost. She made a list, as she was apt to do. But Harry…he couldn’t hear the names. Not then. So he’d started walking.

When he figured he’d walked far enough that nobody would find him, Harry sat down. For the moment, he didn’t particularly care if he was in the way. Perhaps a thestral-led carriage would trample him on its way down the road, he thought, taking a bit of wry pleasure in the possibility. Nothing mattered anymore, his job as the Savior was complete.

More than anything, Harry felt nothing. Nothing was good, nothing was safe. It allowed him to stare at the sky as he pushed away the faces and names that were fighting to break into his consciousness. He wasn’t ready for that yet.

Vaguely, Harry registered the sound of footsteps coming closer to him. He didn’t care enough to look. It wasn’t until he heard a low, familiar voice say, “Potter?” that he felt even the smallest stirrings of emotion. It was mostly confusion, with a sprinkle of concern. The voice sounded rough and exhausted, like the speaker had gone a few weeks without water. Where were the smooth cadences that normally accompanied this voice? Something deep in Harry’s mind picked at a feeling, or rather, at the memory of a feeling: anger, resentment, maybe fear. But Harry was too tired to acknowledge it, or to act upon it, so he let his eyes rest on Draco Malfoy as the other boy sank to the ground in front of him.

“So,” said Malfoy, taking in Harry’s expressionless face.

“Yeah,” replied Harry, deciding now was as good a time as any to lie down. He flopped back, his head cracking lightly on the ground. Draco was silent for a few seconds, and Harry assumed the other boy (man, actually, Harry corrected himself) would be leaving soon, if he hadn’t done so already. A minute later, though, he felt the brush of Malfoy’s arm against his as the blonde laid next to him, mimicking his position. They lay in companionable silence for who knows how long. Eventually (though he wasn’t sure when it started), Harry started to cry noiselessly. The faces gradually wormed their way through the fragile walls Harry had built for them, and he couldn’t escape Remus, Tonks, Colin, Fred…the list went on. When his mind ran out of immediately recent deaths with which to torture Harry, it moved on to Sirius, Dobby, all the way back to his parents. He began to actively wish for that carriage to come along, though some unfamiliar part of himself noted that Draco would also be hurt should Harry be run over at this exact moment, and maybe there would be a better time and place. The thought was fleeting. There was no escape from the soul-crushing loneliness that washed over him, that was so all-consuming that nothing else could possibly break into his consciousness.

Or so Harry thought, until he felt long fingers tentatively lace through his own. He was pulled out of his depressive trance for long enough to register three very important things:

1) Draco was crying as well.  
2) This boy, this recently ex-Death Eater, this man whom Harry had villainized for seven years, knew exactly what Harry was feeling, was able to empathize more than probably anybody else in the world.  
3) It didn’t make any sense how much comfort he took from the gentle pressure of Draco’s hand around his.

This last revelation was the most confusing of the three, so Harry decided to leave it be for the time being. What mattered was that, with Draco by his side, the loneliness ebbed, felt less like a tsunami. For now, Harry was content with it not making sense.


End file.
